Church things.

Toward the end of last year, as I was getting healthier, I found it easier to go to church. My attendance improved from "rare" to "often". Church was still largely uncomfortable at best. My skin crawled, and I found it hard to concentrate on talks because of it. There was no blood, but plenty of sweat and tears on the road to righteousness.

I just felt better about myself when I'd spend some time at church on Sunday. Like I fed a compulsion. Soon, it was time to do tithing settlements. It wasn't hard to admit that we hadn't paid tithing, but it was uncomfortable when I was told we could begin paying and be considered full tithe-payers. I don't like easy-way-outs when it comes to repentance. Still, it planted the idea that we should be real full tithe-payers. 

Neither of us had ever had a positive experience paying tithing. You'd always hear about miraculous events happening to people who sacrificed for the sake of tithing...never happened to us. But we have had a distant want to be sealed for a couple of years, so we figured this would be just another rung on the ladder toward that.

Not so.

Ever since our first tithing payment, I've noticed a big difference in what most people would attribute as "luck". Seriously. So many small things that would always go wrong just started to go right. My life was plagued with things going wrong, or being harder than they needed to be. I got two jobs that I shouldn't have gotten at all. Two jobs I wouldn't have gotten. When I ask for help for the most trivial upsets, the upsets disappear! It's difficult to explain, but there has been quite the difference.

Stephen is getting his patriarchal blessing on Sunday. We saw the temple together. We're actually going places now. And, when we recently ran out of money, the bishop offered us food through the storehouse. We got so much fresh food, things we couldn't normally eat because of the price. It's been awesome, we're so grateful!

Anyway, my grandpa and I were talking about it, and he said that "your money is where your heart is." It's true. And it's about time our hearts were in the right place.

Since these changes, for some reason, I'm finally understanding the bigger picture of this life. It's to be happy, sure, but also to serve God. To basically prove ourselves, and prove that we will choose God. Don't you think? 

Which leads me to my next point. For the first time, I'm feeling close to equal to men. Like we women actually are valuable. Not sure most LDS men are convinced, but I know God feels that way. For the first time, I feel alright sacrificing basically everything to make bodies for God's spirit children. I never really wanted kids. I still DON'T, but I am happy to serve in what ways I can. 

So there's my learning experience. I just don't want to forget any of this. The numerous blessings from tithing, the kindness from our ward, and the acceptance of what my body is capable of (presumably).

An old "friend"

Unfortunately, I feel I'm getting depressed again. About a week ago, I just woke up feeling like a ton of bricks. Just heavy and sluggish. SO tired. A level of fatigue I haven't felt in months. It hasn't let up at all since. My mind is slowly allowing more self- doubt in. Familiar biological dysfunctions are kicking in. I'm terrified it's coming back.

Tim is pushing extra hard for me to keep busy, probably to avoid dwelling on things. My motivation towards school is dwindling. I don't know if I should even bother anymore. I don't feel like I can push myself through school anymore. At least, I have doubts. 

I don't want this to happen, so I'll do what I can to keep it away and try to get something for the biological issues.

Honesty

My life is an alienating, obnoxiously open book. I strive to be honest in all my dealings. Sometimes I suffer for it (in big, obvious ways and in small ways), but I still think it's worth it to be honest.

I think a lot of people are under the impression that, if you're honest, you'll be rewarded, or good things will/should happen. It's really unrealistic, and I blame movies and Disney for perpetuating that idea. The only guaranteed reward for being honest is knowing you did the right thing.

I remember the very incident that made me actively try to develope this bothrsome trait. When I was little, I was extremely intimidated by my dad. He was the disciplinarian, as are most fathers in our culture. I hated being in trouble, but it never occured to me to avoid it. Like most little kids, I'd lie. All the time. I'm still ashamed.

But anyway, one day, my sister and I were taking a bath. We had to be about 7 years old. For some dumb reason, I was at the sink, filling a bowl and pouring it over my head. Over and over, I did this while standing on a carpeted floor. Who has carpeting in their bathroom? My parents, that's who.

Soon enough, my dad came barging in, spanks ready to be delivered. He yelled, asking what we were doing. What were we thinking? He oddly took the time to explain to us what was happening to the soaked carpet (and floorboards) beneath my feet.

Normally, I'd try to give some dumb excuse or lie my face off, but I said: "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what I was doing." or something similar. That's when, instead of the inevitable, my dad calmed down, his wild eyes faded, and he said: "because you told the truth, you won't get spanked." or something similar.

Later, as my sister and I tucked into bed, she whispered to me: "what made you tell the truth?" I actually didn't know. And I still don't, but her asking me that filled me with what I can only describe as pride. And I didn't want that feeling to go away. Hence my ultra-annoying trait was born.

But today I was trying to figure out why I think it's so important to be honest and open, and why I wish everyone were more open. Why I'm so nosy. Why I feel SO weird when other people don't respond/ respond well to my honesty. I thought it was good to be honest. Is there really such a thing as too honest? Or too open? Why does it make people uncomfortable?

That's a series of questions I don't think I'll ever be able to answer, except for one. I know why I think it's important for people to be honest and open. Just think of how much better the world would be.

It's kind of difficult to imagine, but if everyone were more open about their lives, people would be able to empathize more. They'd be less worried about their own problems because they'd realize they aren't alone in them. There would be no facade that anyone is perfectly happy - and that's harder and harder to see, given social media. It's stigmatic to post anything negative.

And being honest is tricky, because honesty sometimes has to take a backseat to kindness. It's a balance - just like justice and mercy. There should be a balance of both. But I mean people should be more genuine, I guess. Like...I strongly feel that everyone wants the same thing, ultimately. Everyone realizes that we all make mistakes. So we should be honest with ourselves. How we feel. How others feel. If we can empathize more, we can forgive more.

It's pretty much common knowledge now, given the public's fascination with muderers, that we can easily treat others less humanely when we dehimanize and distance ourselves from them. Hearing peoples' struggles (as well as triumphs) more often would go a long way toward closing that distance and even making us all less lonely.

Anyway...I just really think we'd all be better off if we were waaaaay more open and honest. My uneducated 2 cents.

What sucks the most

Life is hectic right now. Pretty pivotal.

It's a time where, if I don't do the right thing, I might never have a chance to have a career. Not only because of health reasons, but because of motherhood. Possibly.

 I don't know what I want anymore.

 It's a bit different from last year, or even a few months ago, where I knew what I wanted, but couldn't muster an ounce of motivation toward my goals.

Coroner, autopsy, or crime scene technician. Medicolegal death investigator, organ or tissue recovery technician, emergency medical technician...They all have their appeal. Mortuary science would've helped in most cases, but I don't know about the schooling anymore.

I really can't handle the stress of not knowing whether I will get in this year or not. They have 50 people apply every year to get into the 20 person program. Why would I get in? What do I have to offer that the other students don't? Especially as someone who doesn't ultimately want to be a funeral director or embalmer. I also don't know about my grades. It's hard enough for me to get good grades in classes that I like, but I don't know about accounting, business management, public speaking, interpersonal relations, and math 1010.

I know I could do it if I really really wanted to. If it meant maybe not getting in this year, I'd still try. I know it would be ridiculously difficult to get good grades in all the classes I would need to get very good grades in. The question is if I really want to do it, and I don't really know if I do.

That's $10,000, many time-consuming, and costly trips to Salt Lake, and incredible stress on a burned-out, mentally ill student. For what? By the time I finish, it may be time to start having a family. And I don't even know if I want to do that. For the sake of my own health and just the desire that I lack, I don't know if that's the best decision for us.

Ideally, I'd love to work in a hospital as an autopsy technician. That way I can open bodies and see what's inside and help figure out causes of death - all without maggots or smells. At least not too many smells.

 But then I'm not involved in forensic science. Which is why I love this field in the first place. Maybe there will be domestic violence cases in hospitals but, other than that, just people dying of accidental and natural causes.

 But then there's always EMT. There has always been EMT in the background. It's always been something I wanted to do since 9/11. When I watched video coverage of Katrina, I just wanted to go help. I wanted to help with triage, I wanted to find bodies, I wanted to help living people as well. It was the same with tsunami that hit so many countries in... 2004? 2011? Not only that, but I've always been scared of an emergency happening around me and not being able to do anything. I've had three experiences of such instances.

 At a family reunion years ago, an elderly relative fell backward near a pool, and had a heart attack. I stood close and watched. I wasn't afraid, I just didn't know what to do. My aunt is a nurse, and another relative was a detective - I believe he knows just above basic life support. There may have been another person helping. All I know is I just wish I was more helpful.

 Then, early this year, a girl passed out while I was helping the teacher after class. I wasn't afraid, my first reaction was to help. It wasn't until later that I realized that I was pretty calm and clear headed. Of course, my teacher and another student (who was once an EMT), went to help, so I wasn't needed.

Then, a little bit later, there was an incident with Stephen at the dentist office. He has always been squeamish about health care procedures. I should have been watching him more closely, but the technician kept asking him if he was alright and he kept replying positively. That's when he started making a weird noise. I knew it wasn't a good noise, so I got up to look and see what the problem was. When I got inside the room, he was laying back, and his arms were kind of dangling. He looked extremely pale with an indescribable green hue. His eyes were rolling back. The technician said: "he's just had a seizure."

Maybe it's because I didn't see it, or that the technician was worried, or maybe it was just because I was worried about Stephen, but I may have freaked out a little bit. I don't remember much, just shouting for someone to come help. They sent for an ambulance, and he was seen by a parade of EMTs and paramedics, and even a cop and some firefighters. That was a hard day. One of the worst days of my life. It was another scenario where I wish I could have been more helpful. I've always wanted to be helpful to people around me. I've always wanted them to feel safe around me. All I'm worried about here, if I were to take this path in life, is my intense fear of just talking to people.

 I wish I could pinpoint what the problem is. I know there's nothing to worry about. And I'm not afraid of what people think of me. I just don't want them to know how uncomfortable I am. I don't want them to sense that. I can hardly stand the sound of my voice when I speak. I feel like every single thing I say is wrong. I actually love people. I know we're all flawed and I know that we're all worth something, but there's just something wrong with me. Its not other people. I think that's what most people don't understand about my mental health. I wish I could control it. I would give anything to control it. It just happens when I'm around other people or when they engage me that I just feel... Absolutely beyond terrified.

Anyway, now I've heard of a new job called tissue recovery technician. They take freshly dead bodies of donors, and harvest ligaments, vasculature, bones, skin, and other things for the purposes of transplantation. They help people, they don't have to interact with that many people, and they get to see the inside of bodies all the time. They know how to suture them up after they're done doing what they do. They take the skin grafts and bones and ligaments and whatever else back to the hospital. Its cool. No maggots.

EMTs can do tissue recovery, but they usually want surgical techs. I don't know. Maybe I'll do both. I feel better now. More calm, since I began writing.

The uncertainty of life, I think, is what sucks the most.

Weird friends

This post was made using voice recording on a phone.

Last night, Stephen and I saw our friends for the first time in what seems like forever. It's actually been just a month or so for a couple of them.

People usually wear me out. Nice, mean, outgoing, or introverted. They wear me out just being near them. It's hard to explain but, around others, there is this constant, massive pressure. Pressure to converse properly, behave uniformly, and otherwise pretend I'm normal.

And I'm not trying to say I'm some special, fancy unicorn by any stretch, just that my social brain is dysfunctional. I try to study others to see how to act or what to say. Somehow other people just seem so comfortable starting conversations and continuing them effortlessly.

When I hear my own voice, I cringe. I literally get embarrased and SO panicky. I freeze up. My hands get sweaty, my shoulders tense. When I'm not medicated, my throat closes, and my pitch gets higher as a result. I constantly feel like I'm messing up. Then I start self- flagillating, and that's where most of my depression came from. Just berating myself all day. I feel like my astronomic discomfort makes those around me uncomfortable too. I'm a menace to society, and it only ends up making me feel worse.

Anyway, the fact that my interests don't coincide with most people's is even more alienating. I don't seem to have much in common with anyone. The most emotional thing about getting my PKD diagnosis was that it meant I was even more different now. I have even less in common with others. It's such a freak- of- nature event. No one in my family has it. And PKD is rare, but still the most common life- threatening genetic disease. So I can find others, right? I did, but all they would ever talk ( whine) about is their PKD. They're so uninformed about their own illness. They didn't know anything, and they'd complain about everything.

Anyway, the only time I can get a break from the immense feelings of inadequicy and embarrassment is when I'm alone. There is, when I'm medicated, one exception: my friends. I still get really nervous beforehand, but when I see them, I finally feel like I belong. There is a very weird group of boys in the world who I can be mostly myself around.

I had an especially worthwhile experience yesterday. You know that dumb book about love languages? Can you guess what mine is? Touch. Yup, believe it. I think it's rather comical that the scardiest of scardy-cats, people- wise, needs to have physical contact with them!

Anyway, perhaps mostly because I'm married, my friends don't usually like physical contact. Hugs, being too close together, anything. But yesterday, one of them was situated between me and Stephen on the couch, and we were so close that a side of his body was in contact with a side of mine for hours! I think I was mostly happy because anyone felt comfortable enough around me to do that. I feel like I give of some kind of uncomfortable, repelling vibe. But there it was (this is especially weird to be excited about because I know he reads this blog. Sorry)!

I didn't get ignored or interrupted for the most part. We had so much fun playing games together. They get my humor. I appreciate theirs. Also, they're not afraid to have conversations about deep topics or weird hypotheticals. They're so smart and so weird. And I want to belong. I sometimes feel like I belong. That's more than I get anywhere else.

Save the Date?

Well, I found out a few things today.

First, we might not be able to afford me going to school. Which means I'd have no chance of making it into the program next year/applying this year. What should I do? I can sign up and hope for a miracle or something. There is still the possibility of getting my record wiped because of my mental health at the time. Or I could just give up and go to EMT school. It's not so bad. I've always wanted to do that. I could be useful, but there's also the fact that I'd want to do mortuary school more, I think. I just want to work with dead people, why is that such a difficult thing to do?

Then again, Dr. Melinek started following me on Twitter. It's probably because I follow Ask a Mortician's Caitlin Doughty. They met at a book meet (I've only read Dr. Melinek's book, but it was fantastic!) and they became friends. I wonder if I can ask either of them for advice/help. I've contacted a few mortuaries. Maybe 10? Not one of them has gotten back to me yet. Maybe I just need to be patient...or more diligent?

Also, our bishop says it's possible to be sealed in 3 months. If we do everything we should and we go through all the preparation and stuff. 3. MONTHS. That's way sooner than I thought was possible! Awesome! It's just in time for the opening of the new temple. I'm so excited! I'm thinking May 24th? May 14th? I want it to be rainy, but I want there to be flowers. I guess it doesn't really matter. I just want everything my wedding didn't have: good weather, professional pictures, no stress, and enjoyment. There were moments and items at my wedding that I loved, but the rest of it makes me cringe. I hate thinking about my wedding.

And then, since it's so close, maybe we could have an open house at our place? That might be fun! Christmas lights, flowers, DELICIOUS food (maybe catering, even?), cake, and good times. No specific attention on me would be fantastic. Just a memorable gathering.

So...save the date?

Torn

Some people will make it very clear that they don't like you. Sometimes they don't even know why they don't like you. All of this is okay, just don't think for a second that they're being truthful when saying that they do like you. Actions most always speak louder than words.

Something I'm still learning, apparently. It's just what to do with those people.. Normally, I'd say to just ditch them and move on with your life - you're both better off - but sometimes there are circumstances where that is next to impossible. So are you nice anyway, knowing most of what they do and say is fake? Or do you block them out as much as possible? And, if they really don't know why they don't like you, is it their fault? Should they be "punished" for that?

I'm not sure what the ethical thing to do is.

Anyway, school is a nightmare right now. I know what I want to do. I'm not nearly as close to an A.A.S. in criminal justice as I thought I was so, at this point, mortuary science is only so many more credits. Also, if I want to be able to apply next year, I have to get into Math0990. Or something else. It's very high-pressure at this point. I just worry I still won't get in after all the hard work. 40-50 people apply to the program every year. They only accept 20! That's less than a 50% of getting in! I'm freaked out. I wish I could know if this was worth it. This is what I want, but will I ever have time for a career?

There is hardly any time to have babies. If Stephen focuses on school, he'll graduate at the end of 2018. I'll be barely 27 years old at that point. If I'm healthy then, that leaves 8 years to have babies. If I choose to raise them full-time, that means I'll be "done" at 47 at the absolute earliest. And then it's time to start dying.

Do I even want kids? I'm not sure.

It's never really been in my plans to have biological children. There is an unspeakable amount of pressure from my church and community to have kids. Some would say it's the very reason I'm a female and not a male. It's my purpose. I really worry because my body already has so many issues. My back kills, I'm exhausted, my mental health is just now getting better, and my IBS-C is already miserable. I don't know what I'd do if it got any worse than it is. I could die trying to have kids. Then my life would've been a complete waste. Babies are tiring and they make me uncomfortable. I can't stand their crying. It's the worst noise in the universe!

But then sometimes I'm excited for babies. Just because it's the next step? It's new? I'm not sure. I just imagine creating a body in my body. That's cool. And then there is a little person I'm in charge of in the world. They can do anything. That's really neat. What good things could they do in their lives? More than one person could, right? So mathematically I'd be doing more for the world as a mother than not, right?

Or what if I can do both? Could I do both? Would I be good at both? I'm really not cool with babysitters. I don't want my kids to be raised by someone who isn't their parrent. Not to mention I'm paranoid about them getting hurt if they're not under my care.

The worst-case scenario is that I don't get in this year, I wait another year, I graduate finally, and I have kids and waste $10,000. That seems like a lot now...will it be later?

Best-case would be that I get in right away, I graduate, I have 1 to 4 kids without complication, and I'm somehow able to work (if it makes me happy) and be a good mom. Would I be able to be that busy? I'm so tired as it is!!!

So, what if I am just a mom? Should I do any schooling? What should I do? Would I feel as worthless as I think I would? I'm not "following my dreams"...I'm not sure what to do.